


Early Days (series #1): Collection #1

by sweepeaspatch



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-04-03 21:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 20,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14004891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweepeaspatch/pseuds/sweepeaspatch
Summary: Series #1:  These stories are about the early days before the attraction got traction.





	1. Can't Live With Them...

**Author's Note:**

> Some stories were previously published on FanFiction and AO3 as stand-alones.  
> I've cleaned them up a bit, made a few changes, and collected them here.  
> Story List:  
> 1\. Can't Live With Them...  
> 2\. Across a Crowded Room 1  
> 3\. This Compulsion  
> 4\. Poor Maman  
> 5\. Across a Crowded Room 2 (8 parts)  
> 6\. Shark!  
> 7\. Swimming with Sharks  
> 8\. Why He Doesn't Use The Whiteboard Anymore  
> 9\. Catherine Sees A Chance  
> 10\. Echoes (5 parts)  
> 11\. Echoes Plus (2 parts)  
> 12\. Self-Improvement (6 parts)  
> 

**Can’t Live With Them** …

It is late. Richard paces in his beach house. He looks down at the bed, wishing he had someone to share it with. He’s tired of being alone. He hears a faint mocking echo… Hey, you’re a man, you have needs. Too right... but his dismal track record, his absolute failure with women, his sheer inability to understand them, is dooming him to permanent celibacy.

He scrubs at his face. Damn! He’d had such hopes for a fresh start here. A silver lining to this black cloud that is his banishment to Sainte-Marie. But no. The old pattern has started up again.

First, Lily. She had shot him right through the heart on his very first day with just a smile and a kind word. His entire lonely existence had reared its shameful head right there on the beach with one simple word from her, “Alone?” The overwhelming misery had surprised him but only because his defenses were down. A double murderer. Wow, can he pick ‘em!

Then Megan Talbot! He groans. Oh, that had been a right royal shit-show for sure! He’d made himself such a fool over her. He had delighted in her beauty, her demure manner, the shy smiles at his every word and gesture. She had responded to him as if he were a man worth having and he’s responded like a Pavlovian dog with, he hoped, slightly less drool.

He knows he would have started something with Megan. If not for Camille. Thank God for Camille, reminding him of his duty and obligations, pricking his conscience, making it too embarrassing to moon over one woman in front of another woman. Camille had saved him.

Then later, after he knew the truth, Megan had actually had the nerve to seek him out. To actually ask him give her a chance, that she thought she might be a little bit in love with him. God help him, he’d considered it! How pathetic was that?!! It had been a most novel experience to turn the offer down. He felt he was a better man for it.

Because there was something lurking, wasn’t there? Pace as he might, something is dogging his steps. Every day. He knows he could have settled for Megan except he couldn’t turn his back on…  
The familiar versus the exotic.  
The demure versus the fiery.  
The known versus the thrilling leap off a cliff without a safety net.

Another memory wants in. He tries to fight it off but he’s too tired. It roars into his head. A kaleidoscope vision of Charlie Hulme’s ‘cleaner’ shoots across his mind. Oh, yes, even SHE had played him but for completely different reasons. Despite his quick mental grab, he isn’t fast enough to quash the memory of his furtive wish to ask this lovely local beauty for drinks later. He shakes his head, so relieved he’d dodged THAT bullet. If he’d have asked her out, if he’d revealed his heart, he’d be at her mercy now. Every day. In the office. On the job. It would be unbearable. She must never know his initial reaction to her. Never ever. So far, he thinks he has succeeded. 

The bed beckons. He sees shadows moving on it. One pale. One dark.

Oh, great. Another night in the chair. His back is never going to survive!

END - Can't Live With Them...


	2. Across a Crowded Room 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story #2: Camille is out with friends. Her boss intrudes. Her feelings begin to change.

**Across a Crowded Room #1**

Camille is reconnecting with old friends on Sainte-Marie. She is no longer undercover thanks to that clueless Clouseau , Poole. Adding insult to injury, NOW she has to work with him. Oh, the pain and agony! Tomorrow marks their first month together at the station. It has been as awful as she’d feared. On the plus side, they had solved two murder cases. On the minus side, HIM! The whole situation rankled to such an extent that the only possible solution was to call up all her old girlfriends and go bar-hopping.

But first, there is a catch-up lunch at the fanciest restaurant they can all afford. There is much laughing and reminiscing, discussion of boyfriends and lovers, dissing haircuts and the like. They are almost finished when Nicole notices Camille has gone very silent and is looking daggers across the room. Expecting to see one of Camille’s old boyfriends, she sees only a room full of quiet diners. Turning back, she says, “Who are you trying to kill with that look, Camille?”

Camille speaks low and mean, “Him. That one in the tie by the window.” Her friends turn to look. Nicole sees him now. He’s just drinking tea and reading.

“Who is he?” Danielle asks. “Is he a criminal? Are you tailing him?” She shivers and feels a frisson of danger. Camille led such an exciting life, didn’t she? They are all watching the man now. He didn’t look dangerous. Quite the opposite.

“He’s my new boss,” Camille mutters. Now they all turn to study him openly. She had been regaling them with incredible stories about her boss, each more unbelievable than the last. This quiet, compact, neat and tidy man… an ogre?

Felice stands up, smooths her skirt, and says to Camille, “I’m going to introduce myself,” and marches off before Camille can stop her. Camille covers her eyes and watches through her fingers as Felice glides up to his table. Felice is always the one to cause trouble by doing outrageous things. What fresh horror will come of this prank?

Nicole is puzzled by Camille’s reaction. Camille? Embarrassed? Afraid? She lays a hand on Camille’s arm and is surprised to feel how stiff and still she is.

Meanwhile, they watch as the man stands up when Felice introduces herself. He graciously invites her to sit with him, which she does. He seats her himself. Nicole feels Camille’s arm jerk minutely. The two engage in pleasant conversation for several minutes before Felice excuses herself and returns, once again with his assistance with her chair. Such gentlemanly manners.

Everyone stares at Felice as she studies the table top with a puzzled look on her face. Finally, Rene, always the impatient one, whispers, “Well? What’s he like?” They all lean in curiously, Camille included.

“He’s nice. Well spoken. Asked me about the island and its customs. Inquired about my family. Thanked me for taking the time to welcome an outsider. Wanted to know if I knew anything about the care and feeding of anoles.”

Danielle waves a curt hand, “Yes, yes, yes… but what’s he like!!”

Felice looks at Camille, there is a silent moment of question and answer, “It’s the oddest thing. I could almost hear a hum coming off him, like a big machine banked and idling. What is that, Camille?”

Camille thinks for a moment, “We’re between cases at the moment. He’s bored, I expect.”

Felice leans forward and whispers to Camille, “Do his eyes always pierce so deep?”

Camille looks alarmed, “What do you mean?”

“His eyes. When he first looked up at me, it was like he expected someone else. The look went right through me. It was chilling. I’ll tell you one thing, I do NOT ever want to be on the receiving end of his professional regard. He’s a bit scary.”

Now Camille looks flummoxed, “Him? Scary? He’s a total zero unless he’s got a murder to solve.”

Rene murmurs, “Well, whatever he is, he’s leaving now.” They watch as he crosses the room, pausing to look towards Felice’s table, lifts a hand in greeting, and stumbles for a moment before hurrying out without a backward glance.

“Now that’s odd,” Felice says. “He was grace itself until he looked over here. What do you suppose rattled him?” She turns to Camille. “You’re the detective. Detect.”

Camille huffs in annoyance, “He saw me. Saw you talking to me. Knew we were talking about him.”

“Why would that upset him? A man like that must be used to attention.”

“Not him. He’s an island unto himself. No one walks on his beach.”

Rene makes a small sound, “That’s so sad. A stranger in a strange land. I’ll ask Daddy to invite him to the next Club luncheon. He might enjoy meeting other Brits.”

Danielle laughs, “The Old Boys Club? All they do is sit around pining for old Blighty.”

Camille shakes off her funk, laughs too, “In that case, he’ll fit right in. Throw in a juicy murder and he’ll be a life-long member.”

Rene nods, “I’ll see what Daddy can arrange.”

Camille tells the table, “He’s not long for the island, you know. He wants to go home.”

Felice nods, “I know. I could sense it radiating off him. He’s so alone. Why can’t you be his friend, Camille? You’re always worrying about people and how they get on.”

“ME?! No way! He drives me crazy. I will be glad when he’s gone. Impossible man.”

Rene speaks up, “Well, I think he’s fine. If you don’t mind, Camille, I think I’ll chat him up a bit. I could use some practice in the subtle art of seduction. If he’s really leaving soon, what could it hurt?”

The pang that slivers through her heart takes Camille by total surprise. What could it hurt? Why did it hurt! It matters not to her. Rene has a remarkable track record with men, several fiancés and marriage proposals in the past year alone. She shakes her head. Let her try. He is impervious. He will remain cool and aloof, waiting for… what?

Waiting for what?

She ponders this unsettling question into the wee small hours of the night despite the loud music, the dancing, the drinks, the young men.

Lying in bed, watching the shadows slowly slide across the ceiling, she suddenly feels that she is waiting too.

**END – Across a Crowded Room #1**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Across a Crowded Room 2 is the sequel.


	3. This Compulsion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story #3: Someone is having trouble sleeping, but who?

**This Compulsion**

How do you live with it?

When he is your last thought before sleep. When he is your first thought upon waking as you linger on the edge because his imagined body warmth feels so real.

How do you cope? Get up. Get dressed. Go to work. Do your daily chores and errands.

You have responsibilities. People depend on you. Obligations. Duties.

All you want to do is ease down somewhere quiet and conjure every sweet line of his face and body into existence. Set him in motion. Hear his voice. Watch him move. Have entire unspoken conversations with him.

He’s a real person. He has a right to his privacy. Not to be disrespected. Not a toy dream story ideal.

Surely this compulsion will burn itself out. A month? A year? Two? Never?

And yet.

It feels so good. Pain and delight. A slow fever spiking erratically. A steady warm pulse in the vicinity of your stomach.

It’s nice to have a hero so finely drawn and well-constructed. The world needs them. Is a decent one such a bad thing?

Can you live with loving him from afar?

If you have to, you do.

And if your thoughts aren’t always pristine, perhaps he would forgive you.

You can keep a secret.

You can keep it very well.

**END – This Compulsion**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any of this feel familiar? ;)


	4. Poor Maman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story #4: Does Camille have a rival? Just after S1 E3 roast beef dinner.

**Poor Maman**

It’s a warm sultry night. Gentle breezes rustle the trees and evening is falling.

Here is a snug little house. White picket fence. Not quite a rose-covered cottage but close. It would suit him to a ‘T’.

Closer now. Up the walk. There is a window throwing golden light onto the lawn. What’s to be seen?

There is a man sitting at a table. A table set for two. Candles wink. Cutlery gleams. A snowy tablecloth. It looks perfect. Neat. Orderly. Precise. Just like he’d want it to be.

And he IS perfect. Neat. Tidy. Impeccable in suit and tie. Waiting patiently for his love.

There are sounds from the kitchen behind him. He listens appreciatively. A man in his castle.

A figure backs out, dressed demurely, an equally snowy apron around her waist, carrying a large platter. It holds roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, a medley of island vegetables (his tastes have changed a bit so it seems), and a bottle of exquisite wine. She places it down with domestic satisfaction in front of him.

His eyes glow with pride and love, “Oh, dear one. You spoil me. Truly you do. What man could be luckier than I? May I have a kiss?”

The woman leans down. They kiss shyly. They are still learning. Their courtship had been whirl wind. The time to discover each other is now and every day to come for the rest of their wedded lives.

“Would you like some wine, my dear man?”

“Yes, Catherine, I would.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Camille screams herself awake. She bolts out of bed, lurching like a drunk, knocking stuff over, trying to get her bearings. Her hands are frantically yanking at her hair, wiping slick sweat off her face.

_'Oh my God! Richard! And Maman??! Where the HELL had that come from?'_ She feels her forehead, ' _Am I sick? Am I raving? Richard! And Maman!'_

Sitting shakily down, she searches her mind. The pudding. Yes! The pudding! Yesterday. Maman had served him his own food… and the look of undisguised delight on his face! It had been transforming! Not just in his looks but in her heart. She had been shocked at how handsome he was! The sound of his laugh had sent a shiver right down her spine. She’d really noticed him for the first time.

Most of all, she recalled his off-the-cuff comment to her as he had tucked in, “Gosh, Camille. A man could marry for a meal like this. How about it? Fancy me for a step-dad?” He’d laughed and missed the stricken look on her face.

Now it all came boiling out. Everything. Him. Her. And the looks Maman had been shooting him. She knew Maman enjoyed the company of men… but would she really consider taking this much younger man as a lover?

Stupid question!

Worse yet… would she let her?

NO! She would not. As she hurriedly dressed and ran down her walkway into the early morning light, she thought, _'Poor Maman, sorry, but a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do. Time for a pre-emptive strike.'_

As she approaches his home, she hears the shower running. He is humming. It is nice. She settles into a veranda chair and watches the sun crest the trees. She listens to him pottering about and meets him with a radiant smile when he brings his breakfast out onto the porch, surprising him quite badly.

“Morning, sir! I just thought I’d get you to the office bright and early to get a start on the day. Crime waits for no man, you know.”

As he settles into the other chair, making polite chat with his new Sergeant, she thinks, _'And no woman waits too long for her man. En garde, monsieur.'_

END – Poor Maman


	5. Across a Crowded Room 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story #5: Camille's next few lunches with the girls after her friend Rene has set her sights on someone special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sequel to 'Across a Crowded Room 1' was requested... and out it popped! Much to my surprise.  
> The lunches are roughly 1 month apart.

Across a Crowded Room 2  
Part 1

Rene is very quiet at the next girls’ luncheon. Everyone else is chatting and laughing but she simply stares into the bottom of her coffee cup. Finally, Danielle leans forward and waves a teasing hand up and down in front of her face, “Earth to Rene! Come in, Rene!” They all laugh as she snaps out of her fugue and smiles at them at bit sheepishly.

“Honestly, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you had a new man on your mind!” said Nicole.

“Well, since you bring it up, I do have a new man. A lovely man.” She turns to Camille, “And I have you to thank for it.”

Camille’s eyes fly wide, “Me??! Why me? I haven’t introduced you to any…..” Her eyes narrow.

Rene nods, her thoughts obviously drawn off once more, “Sure you did. Remember? Our last lunch? We were sitting right here at this very table and he came in and I went over and then you said…”

Camille chops a curt hand down, “Never mind what I said! What have you done??”

Nicole turns a questioning eye to Camille. She remembers how Camille’s arm had tensed woodenly under her hand while she’d watched Rene talk to Camille’s new boss across the room. The careful look in her eye. Camille had seemed a bit distracted during the following bar-hopping that night too. Nicole had wondered about it but dismissed it. Camille’s taste in men did not bend that way. She was probably just concerned how her personal life might affect her professional life if a good friend started dating her boss. Bound to cause complications. Right?

Felice now leans forward, amused disbelief writ large on her face, “No way! You and Camille’s boss? How did THAT happen? Come on, girl, dish!”

The normally loquacious Rene hesitates. Camille wants to slap her. Tell us!! How did you manage it??

“It was perfectly innocent. I invited him to Daddy’s club for dinner. The poor man was practically starving to death for good English tucker. He enjoyed himself so much that it became a weekly date.”

What night was this? Every week? And not a word to me… to any of us! After that lovely meal Maman made him? He never asked for another and now I know why! He was being feted by Rene and her circle!

Nicole can hear a curious sound, a kind of grinding, faint but audible. 

Felice nods, “Oh, yes! I can just imagine! And what did Daddy have to say? Camille’s boss is ages older than you! He’s not anything like those young idiots who line up at your door every day. I bet Daddy hit the roof!”

Rene nods, “Daddy DID disapprove… until he met him. Within half an hour, Daddy had whisked RP off to The Old Boy’s Club. Cigars and brandy ensued. I didn’t see him for the rest of the evening. Now, I have to schedule our dates around Daddy’s man-time with RP.”

A rumbling cough that sounds like a low growl drifts over from Camille’s side of the table, “….RP…”

Sadly, Rene intones, “Yes, there’s a real bro-mance blooming at The Old Boy’s Club and I’m not included!” She turned to her friends, “It’s awful! I can’t seem to get him alone for more than a few minutes… not nearly enough time to advance things.”

Danielle leans on her hand, “Oho! Advance, eh? That’s quick work. You never seemed this keen on any of those other boys!”

Rene gets such a sappy look on her face that Camille has to sit on both her hands, “He isn’t a boy.” Everyone waits but nothing seems forthcoming.

Nicole just has to ask, “Erm, not a boy? What is he, then?”

Rene comes to life, “Oh, he’s just the most marvelous man I’ve ever met! So mannerly, so polished. He’s full of the funniest stories and, truth be told, I don’t understand most of what he tells me but I’m sure he’s always right and I’d trust anything he says.” She turns shining eyes to Camille, “You are SO lucky to work next to him! To see how his mind works. To watch him in his pursuit for truth and justice…”

Camille closes her mouth with a snap, “Oh, come on, Rene! He isn’t Superman! He’s the most annoying man I’ve ever met! We can’t be talking about the same person!” Camille’s eye is caught by Nicole’s questioning look, “Well, we can’t. He’s simply insufferable!”

Nicole ponders this, “Well, Rene doesn’t seem to think so. And she should know! She’s been out with him. What have you done?”

Camille turns away, angry, embarrassed. Yes. What HAS she done? Fight with him. Annoy him. Try to drive him out of the station and off the island. A tiny whisper rises from deep inside… you’ve begun to dream about him, though, haven’t you? Don’t forget that, my girl. Nice dreams. Like last night… She slams the door on the voice. No. Way. No. How.

“But, girls, that’s the problem. I DO like him but I can’t seem to get anywhere with him.”

Felice snorts, “Get him drunk and shag him like you do all the others.”

Nicole sees Camille blanch. Interesting. There seems to be two different stories going on here.

Rene shakes her head, “No. Not with him. He’s different. I don’t know how to handle him.” Another snort from Felice. “Honestly, Felice, if you can’t help me, keep your thoughts to yourself.” She leans forward. The other women lean in to join her. “What I need is a plan to woo and wed a man who is so unlike anyone I’ve ever known that he might as well be an alien from another planet. And ideas?”

END – part 1

Part 2 

The next lunch comes round. Camille doesn’t want to go. This past month has been awful. 

When she’s at work, she is acutely aware of him on every level of consciousness. She watches, she listens, she is learning his ways and how his mind works. They are developing a rapport as partners and their professional relationship is taking off. He compliments her. He listens to her, lets her take the lead sometimes. He seems to value her as a partner. But nothing more.

When she’s off duty, she is acutely aware of him on every level of consciousness. She sees him, she hears him, she thinks about his mind and his ways. He’s like a ghost haunting her every waking moment. And don’t get her started on her un-waking moments. It is unsettling. Very unsettling. Soon, she thinks her off-duty thoughts will bleed over into her on-duty actions. That way lies disaster.

Worst of all, he hasn’t mentioned Rene. Camille’s imagination is way too vivid. It is eating her alive.

The only way she can find out what’s going on is to go to the lunch and try to keep her mask in place.

Of course, there is only one topic of conversation!

“Daddy is convinced Sainte-Marie needs its’ own forensics lab. He’s set a committee and they are planning a fund-raiser. A big black-tie event. RP will be the guest speaker. I’m so excited! It will be the first time I’m on his arm in public. Surely he will appreciate me a bit more?” Rene sounds wistful. Camille feels a stab of satisfaction. Things must not be developing to Rene’s liking?

Danielle waggles her eyebrows, “So… tell us. Any news of the bridegroom front?”

Rene looks distraught, “Not as such, no. He’s very dedicated to his job. I never realized there was so much work involved in keeping the peace.” She turns to Camille, “Why does he have to work such long hours? Why does he talk about you so much?”

Camille is brought up short, “Me? I can’t think…”

Rene rolls on, “All of you. He tells me such stories! He tried to walk me through a ‘simple case’ but I simply couldn’t follow his reasoning. He says you do, though, more and more. He says that soon you will be solving cases on your own and you won’t need him. Then he can go home.”

Camille is silent in amazement. Why is she hearing this from Rene? Why isn’t he telling her this himself? And… go home?? Go home!! 

“Anyway, I need your advice, all of you. What should I wear to this black tie event? I have to catch his attention and fight off all comers. He’s been attracting quite a lot of attention from other women. If I don’t get a proposal out of him soon, he’s liable to slip the net.”

While the other women confer and argue, Camille’s mind is in a whirl. RP. Proposal. Other women. She feels nauseous. Where has her head been all this time? The station. Paperwork. Lunches and drinks with the team at La Kaz. Lonely nights sitting at home, thinking about him. And, all the while, THIS has been going on behind her back! She feels betrayed. Out of the loop. Three months she’s been with him and they are barely on good speaking terms. Meanwhile, Rene… She comes out of her stupor just in time to hear…

“Oh, thanks, ladies. That can’t fail to work! If I’m not wearing a diamond ring next time you see me then it will be a miracle.”

Miserably, Camille joins in the toast to Rene and her latest campaign to capture and wed RP. Not long after, she pleads a headache and leaves early.

She drives back to the station, fretting. She paces in the street, fuming. Why can’t she think? Why does her stomach hurt? What IS it about this whole situation that makes her crazy? She needs to sort her thoughts out. She’s a professional. She can handle danger, risk, the unknown. Surely…

She sees him silhouetted in the station doorway. He is watching her pace. Probably wondering why she is wasting time when there is so much work to be done! Well, she will show him! She will be the best D.S. in his sorry little life and he will have to finally tell her how vital she is to him… the force… yes, to the force. She will buckle down and make herself indispensable. And, somehow, somehow she has to get his attention. Without letting him know that she knows all about Rene.

Fingers crossed and steely-eyed, she ascends the steps and goes into battle. 

It will be a long month.

END – part 2

Part 3 

One week before the next scheduled luncheon, Camille sees the society page folded on top of the newspapers atop RP’s… Richard’s desk. He reads all the papers every morning with his first cup of coffee and, today, this page is uppermost. 

Camille’s heart sinks as she quickly lifts the paper to read. Ah, yes. The gala function to fund-raise for the new forensics facility here on Sainte-Marie. Here is the Commissioner and his wife, looking sleek and polished for the camera. Here are various other functionaries, ditto. And HERE is Richard, handsome as anything in black tie, the ‘highly respected and wonderfully accomplished’ guest speaker. And THERE is Rene, on his arm, looking radiant and confident, groomed to perfection, gazing at him with a possessive air Camille doesn’t appreciate at all.

She is amazed to read that the forensics scheme might actually get off the ground! Thanks to Rene’s fathers’ backing and Richard’s new-found notoriety as crime-fighter extraordinaire. She is deep into the article when a soft sound makes her look up into stern green eyes. She drops the paper. He sips his coffee and observes her. Oh, she sincerely hopes that she is still a closed book to him because she is sure her feelings are plain to see on her face.

He nods to the paper, “Bit of a rum go, what?... as they say down at the Club. It will be good for us to have our own facility, won’t it?”

She nods like one of those little toy dogs, “Oh, yes. Absolutely. Think of all the extra time we’ll have sitting around when all the cases are solved in one day. Lots of time to do crosswords and eat out at fancy clubs…” She bites her lip. Merde!

“Ummm,” he nods, “ lunch out with the girls…” He is watching her very carefully. It unnerves her.

She indicates the papers, “Shall I clear these away?” He nods. She sweeps them up, whisks them outside, falls onto the nearest veranda bench to read the article very carefully. No mention of wedding bells. No hint at Rene’s plans reaching fruition. Camille crumples the paper into a twist. 

And what could she do about it if there WERE hints in the paper? Other than work, they lives hardly coincided. He might as well be an alien from another planet. She has absolutely no control over him and he barely knew she existed.

Oh, this next lunch is going to be torture.

END – part 3

Part 4 

It IS torture. Pure and simple. Camille arrives late and comes in half-way through a conversation that she would gladly have set fire to herself never to have heard at all.

Rene is telling the girls all about her past weekend… her HOT weekend… interspersed with all the gory details about the resort they’d stayed at, the lovely meal, the slow dancing… 

Camille can only see his face that previous Friday afternoon, telling her, LYING to her, right to her face, about how busy he would be all weekend with some experiment and she wasn’t to interrupt him except for a murder!

Right! Science experiment! Uh huh. Biology, this time. Not chemistry fume tanks. Not physics. Biology. And pretty big time judging by Rene’s enthusiasm. The other women are egging her on, asking for intimate details that Camille did NOT want to know. At least, not from that quarter. 

Her ears are burning and she is wondering how she will be able to look him in the eyes ever again when the words just fall out of her mouth, “Rene! Stop!! I have to work with the man. Can’t you spare him the tiniest bit of privacy? He would be mortified to know you are talking about him this way!”

The entire table falls silent. Nicole lays a hand on Camille’s arm and gives her a tiny smile. Aha.

Rene looks puzzled, “Him? You mean Archie? I didn’t even know you knew Archie. Isn’t he a dream?”

Now it is Camille’s turn to look puzzled, “Archie? Archie who?”

“Archie! My new beau! We met right after the fund-raiser. As a matter of fact, RP introduced us. What a thoughtful fellow he is. So kind. So paternal. He said he just knew we two would hit it off, and we did!” Rene is glowing.

Camille holds up both hands, “Wait a minute. Hold on. You have an Archie now?” Rene nods. “What happened with RP? Weren’t you two thick as thieves just a few weeks ago?”

Rene shrugs, “Oh, that’s all over. When I tried to bring things to a head, it just didn’t happen. I kissed him. So bold of me.” The other women snort. Rene? Kiss? Bold? “He did try. I know he did. He’s very good, by the way, but I could tell his heart wasn’t in it. When I pressed him, he told me his heart belongs to another and he can’t forsake her.” 

Camille is reeling. ANOTHER other woman! How many did he have? The cad! The beast! He is almost French!!

Rene blushes, “I even offered to… you know… and do you know what he said?” Everyone shakes their heads slowly. What in the world? “He said, ‘Thank you ever so for the very kind offer but I must decline on the grounds I am monogamous though invisible.’ What do you think that meant?”

No one could parse it.

Rene continues, “Well! That’s never happened before! Not to me. So I had to give him up. You know I don’t truck with married men and, according to him, he’s as good as, so that was that. Now, Archie…!” and she began to sing her new beau’s praises once more.

Camille heard none of it. RP! Safe from Rene’s clutches. Hooray!! But now fallen into the coils of a new mystery woman. Boo!!

As the lunch wore down, Camille spun clever plans and sure-fire stratagems to ferret out the identity of this new woman. After all, a D.S. has to be good for something in this world if only to save a loved one from making a second disastrous step in the dating scene. 

END – part 4

Part 5 

On her way back to the station, Camille stops in for a war council with her mother. The main objective, how do you get a man’s complete and total attention without bloodshed?

Catherine smiles. Finally! A sensible question for a crazy situation. She knows who is under discussion here, has known for some time now, but it’s always best to let things take their own course. Unless…

“Cheri, is there another woman involved?”

“Yes, I think so. I don’t know who but, if I play my cards right, I may never need to know.”

“Quite right, darling! Nothing can withstand a determined French woman’s assault. But, dearest, what if this other woman is also French? She may have already turned his head with her feminine wiles! He may already be lost to you?”

“Grrrr, I will tear her limb from limb. Her own family will not recognize her!”

“Bon. Now. My advice… the direct and simple approach. Just kiss him. Lightly. Lingeringly. If you catch him by surprise, he won’t have time to dodge or evade. Men can sometimes come up with the most shocking reasons why NOT and no reason at all for WHY. It’s almost like they don’t want to admit they are helpless puppets. Ah, biology,” Catherine sits back with satisfaction. She can almost see it happening. Mmmm, but, non. This is Camille’s quest.

Camille hesitates, “I don’t know. He can be extremely erudite. He’s full of words. I couldn’t stand it if he started yelling at me. You don’t know what he’s like!”

Catherine, knowing EXACTLY what he’s like, stand up and takes Camille by the arms. 

“Camille Bordey! Are you a French woman or a mouse?!... or worse, an English woman? Are you going to let a little thing like words come between you and the man you love? Words bounce off, can be taken back. A kiss… well, that binds the heart. Just walk up to him and kiss him. It will take only a moment and then it is done. The rest…” she shrugs, “… is up to him.

Camille squares her shoulders, “You are right, Maman. I AM a French woman. I’ll do it,” and she marches out the door and heads straight for her Waterloo.

END – part 5

Part 6 

She mounts the steps to the station. So far, so good. She enters the building. All is quiet. She stops at her desk and sees him. Uh oh.

His desk is covered with evidence bags and files, almost hiding him. Must be another cold case that has caught his attention. He is totally engrossed. Oblivious. Just right.

But her nerve fails her. Again. Oh, Maman, I am such a coward. Sorry.

As she sits down at her desk, drawing her own work towards her, she thinks about the odd phrase Rene had used, ‘Monogamous though invisible’. What could he have meant? Somehow, she feels this is a huge clue. Could she ask him? How to word it? She picks up a file and approaches his desk. He really is chuttering away, the papers are practically flying into new piles right in front of her eyes. 

She picks one thick file up, pretends to read it, “Hmm. It says here ‘I felt something though invisible’. What do you think that means?”

Without looking up, he says, “It means the person feels totally overlooked and ignored. Invisible.” His pen slows, stills. “The person is hiding in plain sight. Perhaps waiting to be discovered.” She stares at the file, nodding, thinking. She puts the file back down and returns to her desk. After a moment, his pen starts up again.

She is thinking furiously. Well, that seems simple enough. Someone feels something but no one else knows. Kind of like her. And he told Rene that he feels the same way. It must be unrequited love, then. What else does monogamous mean? So, he’s in love with someone and they don’t know it. How foolish. Why doesn’t he just tell her? Who could intimidate him like that? Well, whoever she is, she has a rival now. Time to put Maman’s plan into action.

Just a kiss. A quick kiss then let the body parts fall where they may. What’s the worst that could happen? I’m fired? No big deal. Can’t get arrested. Unless he gets stroppy. Must never rule that out. But it would never stick. He declines to engage? Well, that would hurt, but she’s withstood worse. He starts a rant? Maybe a second kiss will silence him. He likes it? Mmm, that outweighed everything else. There is the tiniest minuscule most remote possibility that he might like it. She decides that alone is worth all the risk in the world!

She stands. She strides to his desk. She steps right up to his right shoulder, reaches down, cups his chin, turns his surprised face up to her, stoops quickly, and kisses him. Lightly. Lingeringly. 

Then she unhands him and steps back. Starts to count.

END – part 6

Part 7 

One. He stares at her in surprise. He goes very pale. His lips are slightly parted.

Two. His eyes are very green but darkening. 

Three. He lays his pen down. 

Four. He stands. Faces her.

Five. Nothing happens.

Six. More nothing.

Seven. Maybe he didn’t notice the kiss?

Eight. She frowns. What’s going on behind those whirling eyes? He’s processing SOMETHING. What?

Nine. OK, now she’s getting nervous.

Ten. Time’s up. She takes a step back. He brings up a hand. She stops. He is frowning down at the space between them. Then he looks up, right at her, and is invisible no more, “You were saying?”

Time stands still. The space between them becomes no space at all. Her lips on his, his hands on her, her arms around him. He has the wherewithal to slowly back them out of sight into the cell area but she doesn’t realize that for many minutes until she comes up for air and notices where they are.

At her look, he murmurs, “The Commissioner is in town. I don’t want him walking in on something that will shock him.”

A plummy voice speaks from out of the shadows, “It will take a lot more than that to shock me, my boy. Carry on. And felicitations.”

By the time they disentangle from each other, the building is empty. He passes a shaky hand over his brow, “Well, one hurdle bested. He’s not going to stand in our way.” 

As his arms go around her again, she pushes back, remembering, “Just a minute, Romeo. There is the little matter of this other woman. What are you going to tell her?”

“Other woman? Oh. You’ve been talking to Rene. What a little blabber-mouth. I knew I could trust her to pass on the message.”

“What message? Do you have another woman on the hook already or not? AND… is she French?”

He nods, “Very French. Or, half French. That’s just as bad.”

“Well, now you have to choose. I’m not going to share. And, probably, neither will she, considering the prize. Have you kissed her yet?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Humph. And did she like it?”

“I think so, but if you have questions, why don’t you ask her yourself?” He turns her so she is looking into the little mirror hanging on the wall by the doorway. He begins to count.

One. She stares at the mirror in bafflement.

Two. Her shoulders that had tensed up, ready to fight, ease.

Three. Her eyes jump up to meet his in the reflection.

Four. Her lips curve into a nerve-jangling smile, almost a smirk. Her shoulders tense up again.

Five. She turns to face him. 

Time stops again for their second kiss. It is only the arrival of Dwayne and Fidel from their rounds that ends the current record-holder for oral osculation. 

Future records are yet to be set.

END- part 7

Part 8 

The next lunch is quite sedate by recent standards.

Rene still talks about Archie. What a lot she has to say.

Camille does not talk about Richard. What a lot she could have said. 

She spends most of the meal in pleasant reverie of private interludes of a most personal nature that just beg to be boasted about… but she can’t. However, she has started a journal and it made for steamy reading. It is now her favourite book and she is having a devil of a time keeping it up to date. The man is insatiable.

Nicole is the only one who wonders at Camille’s silence and odd smiles. When everyone got up to leave, she catches Camille’s hand and keeps her back. Sitting her down, she orders 2 more coffees and looks Camille right in the eye, “OK, girl. Give! I know something is going on with you. Does it have anything to do with a certain copper we both know?”

Try as she might, Camille can’t keep the glee off her face for one second longer, “Yes! But we’re not ready to tell the world just yet. The new forensics facility is taking up most of our time but once that’s settled, we want to start looking at houses.”

“That’s wonderful! Congratulations. Have you set a date yet?”

Camille laughs, “He says ‘when it gets cooler’! When will that be, do you think?”

“Air-conditioning! Problem solved. Now. A most important question.”

“Yes?”

“Is he as good a kisser as Rene said?”

Camille hugs herself (I have a secret), “Trust me, Rene didn’t come close to what he’s capable of.”

“And what about this ‘other woman’ he told her about? That was you, wasn’t it?”

“Lucky for him, it was. I was ready to take on a whole army of rivals and he knocked the wind right out of my sails. Kind of a let-down, really. I was pumped up for a fight and it was just him standing there.”

“Wow. I wonder he survived it. Take no prisoners, eh?”

A predatory smile flashes, “Just the one.”

END – Across a Crowded Room 2


	6. Shark!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story #6: sharks come in all sizes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed to introduce a particular villainess as she appears in 2 future series yet to be posted.

**Shark!**

Elizabeth and her youngest daughter, Irene, wave to Vivian and Octavia as they walked into the restaurant, calling them over to their usual table for their usual luncheon at the usual time. These ladies are nothing if not creatures of habit.

Habit counted for a lot with them, the three older ladies having attended the same girls’ school and, even though they didn’t always like one another, they are fast friends through thick and thin. Their years abroad with their various and sundry husbands have forged strong bonds and now they are settling down to a slower life here in the Caribbean.

Well, most of them, anyway.

When things got TOO slow, Octavia would jet-set off to Europe and she always came back with the most outlandish stories of her conquests. The other ladies didn’t believe half of what they were told. Octavia’s rep as a man-eater was a bit much, they thought, however they soon saw her in action and it happened thusly...

Being on almost every committee, board, and charitable group of Saint Marie, these ladies have their fingers on the pulse of all visitors to the island. They are therefore very surprised to see a new man come in for tea. He is precise, controlled, and calm. They study him, intrigued.

Obviously a newcomer judging by his pale aspect, unsuitable suit, and discomfort with the climate. They try to guess his occupation and who they could ask for information about him. Vivian’s husband is due back from England any day now. He might know.

They are content to wait but not Octavia. She is eyeing him up with interest. He put her in mind of her third husband a bit, the same build, the same colouring. Was he at all like him in other aspects? Big Ed had been a most satisfying partner in all respects but for his outlook on alcohol. She liked it. He didn’t. The union had lasted only two years and she missed him often in the long lonely nights.

Elizabeth and Irene exchange wry glances. This could get interesting.

A week later, Vivian reports back. He is D.I. Poole of the Met, flown in expressly to solve the Hulme murder, brilliant but eccentric, returning to England soon. Apparently he solved the case although no one seems to understand how. Word is he’s been searching for the perfect cup of tea and he’s finally found it here at this venue. They applaud his good sense.

Octavia finishes her 3rd glass of wine and makes a pronouncement to the table, “I think he’s yummy. If he’s leaving soon, I’d better not waste any time. Watch and learn, girls.”

Elizabeth, Irene, and Vivian watch in mild astonishment as Octavia sways her way over to his table. He looks a bit astonished himself when she sits down without a word of introduction. They can see that he attempts polite small talk and they approve of his gallantry but, when Octavia flashes her cleavage and clasps his hand, he stands abruptly and excuses himself, leaving his tea unfinished.

Octavia watches his retreating back, a slight frown on her face. After a small amount of face-saving time, she returns to the ladies who lose not a moment of smug ‘tsking’.

“You spooked him, Octavia. Not every man is easy prey,” Vivian opines.

“Nonsense. He’ll think about me for the rest of the day and be more amenable the next time we meet. You probably couldn’t see from here but he has the most amazing eyes. I bet they glow by candle light.”

“Thinking of inviting him out for an intimate dinner, dear?” asks Elizabeth. Privately, she thinks, _the look on his face! Either he’s gay or gun-shy. I wonder which?_

“The more intimate, the better!” laughs Octavia, filling up her glass once more.

Irene ventures an opinion, “He seems a bit reserved, Octavia, not your usual fare.” Being a newlywed, Irene still harbours romantic notions of proper behaviour between the sexes. She finds Octavia over-bearing and brusque and wouldn’t spend time with her at all if it weren’t for her mother’s unusual attachment to the woman.

Octavia smirks, “I like ‘reserved’. ‘Reserved’ is a challenge. I give him 2 weeks. Care to wager?”

No one does.

Over the next few weeks, Elizabeth and Vivian restrain Octavia as best they can. “The man will simply stop taking tea here if you persist in your bad behaviour,” Vivian scolds.

They discuss the news that he will be staying longer than originally thought. Octavia is pleased. She will have more time to convince him of her finer attributes and vows to add him to her list of conquests.

“Another notch on your bedpost, darling?” Elizabeth coos.

“At least I have a bedpost… darling.”

Irene just has to jump to her mother’s defense. How typical that Octavia would make such an off-hand callous reference to widow-hood. “Not everyone needs a man in their bed to validate their existence. Perhaps spending some alone time with yourself might improve your outlook on life.”

Octavia snorts into her wine, “Says the woman with a virile young man in her bed. Do you find married life agreeable?”

Irene is ready with a hot retort but for her mother’s staying hand. Mother is right. Fighting with Octavia is a losing battle. She really hopes that nice man can resist Octavia’s machinations. The woman will be unbearable if…

That’s when a lovely young woman enters and sits at the nice man’s table without a by-your-leave. She is right in his face and chivying him about something. His calm demeanor soon crumbles and they are arguing fiercely, quietly, but fiercely.

The ladies’ radar goes off. “Well, well, well. Here’s an unexpected development,” muses Vivian, casting a satisfied eye to Octavia who does not look pleased in the least.

Elizabeth chuckles, “Maybe you’ve missed your chance, Octavia. Why not be a good loser and let things take their course? Not everything is about you, you know.”

Octavia is sizing up the young woman; fit, slender, beautiful, and blindingly confident. _Must be French_. She has to say something to maintain her dignity, “She could never land him! She’s too common.”

They watch the pantomime closely. He is losing the argument and doesn’t even know it yet.

_Yes,_ Octavia thinks, _French. What IS it with English men and French women?! Oil and water most of the time… although, sometimes… gasoline and a match. Which is this?_

Vivian gives a very satisfied sigh, “She’s his Sergeant.” Having a husband in Government House has its advantages.

“No!!” Irene is ablaze with romantic imagination. How wonderful!

“Yes. They work very closely together. Every day,” Vivian twists the knife.

Octavia fumes, “He’ll be mine yet. She’s only had a few weeks, not enough time to sink her hooks into him that deeply. Besides, she’s built like a boy.”

Scornfully, Irene thinks, _and I bet it’s all natural._

Elizabeth, who had studied his eyes during the argument, doubts Octavia’s opinion. Doubts it very much. She watches as the couple leaves together, moving in unison like two parts of the same shadow. She sees how he moves with her, how his eyes follow her, how his every sense is concentrated on her.

Turning to Octavia, Elizabeth smiles, “Be gracious in defeat, dear. He isn’t for you.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Three years later, Elizabeth, Vivian, and Irene watch Octavia fail yet again at a soiree in Government House.

“She just can’t accept it, can she? They are so obviously devoted to one another,” sighs Irene.

“I wonder at the wife’s forbearance. I would have drowned her years ago if she chased after my husband like that,” snaps Vivian.

“I think the wife feels sorry for her. He is rather dishy in a very restrained kind of way.”

Elizabeth murmurs, “Irene, watch yourself. Don’t you fall under his spell too.”

Irene blushes, “A girl can look, can’t she?”

Vivian has had enough, “Oh, let’s retrieve Octavia before she tries again. Honestly, she has no shame!”

END – Shark!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, same set up as 'Across a Crowded Room' but I actually wrote this story first as I needed a man-eater in the vicinity.


	7. Swimming with Sharks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story #7 - a quiet swim, what could it hurt?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during S1 E5...

**Swimming with Sharks**

D.I. Poole’s mind wanders a bit. Who can blame him? As far as a ‘chewing out’ goes, this one is a walk in the park. The Commissioner is in full flow, trying his best to castigate but it is a dawdle compared to the full-body eviscerations of Croydon. Bruises were not unknown after a particularly loud dressing-down.

Keeping his polite ‘I’m listening’ face on, he marvels at the Commissioners eloquence. Very polite. No profanity. No actual threats. He thinks, _this is a man I could work with, WOULD work with, except I’m going home soon. Pity I had to come so far to find him._

Poole breaks cover to defend the prison guard against unfair blame. He never lets junior officers take the heat for his mistakes. Life is unfair enough. The least he can do is protect the weak.

Tirade over, the Commissioner sails off.

Trying to stretch out his tense neck muscles, his team finds him bent over. He realizes from the looks on their faces that they think he is upset. He calmly tells them his viewpoint of the ‘discussion with senior management’ and sees their reaction to his statement that he’d offered to be ‘shipped home in disgrace’.

“Oh, what? You don’t want me to go? We all know that’s a lie. I will never adjust. I will never give up my suits. I will never get used to the heat. I will never wear a gaudy shirt. I will never don swim trunks. I…”

He is interrupted by Dwayne, “You don’t swim?”

He loses his train of thought, “Yes. No. Not with sharks!”

Fidel jumps in, “What about private pools? There’s lots in town and people ask about you all the time.”

“That’s right, Chief. Think about a nice cool dip after work. Somewhere private. No sharks.”

They see he is relishing the idea. Dwayne hastens to add, “I know just the place! A big mansion on the west beach. Gorgeous pools. Salt water. Fresh water. Wave pool. You name it.” He fishes on his desk for a slip of paper, “Aha, I knew I had it here somewhere! It’s the St. Remy place. Old money. Very involved in good works in the Caribbean. Give them a call and see what happens.”

He does call. The lady of the house herself invites him around for drinks and a dip that very evening.

“Good for you,” Camille laughs, “It’s time you started meeting people and relaxing a bit. All work and no play makes Richard a dull boy.”

He smiles, “I AM a dull boy, didn’t you know? Now, if you will excuse me, I need to buy some trunks.”

Unbeknownst to the team, the lady of the house is doing a little victory dance as she hangs up the phone. Poole! That delicious treat she’d spotted during lunch only weeks ago has fallen right into her lap. With a little effort, he will land in her bed. How delightful! How serendipitous! The one man to catch her attention in six months is walking blindly into her clutches. She can’t wait to crow about his complete undoing to those do-gooders Elizabeth and Vivian! She hurries off to make ready.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Camille drops Richard off at the entrance to a magnificent estate. He’s moving in higher circles now, she thinks, proud for him.

“I’ll get supper at Maman’s then pick you up in 2 hours.” He nods. She leaves.

A servant shows him to the pools. He’s always heard about the ‘healing powers’ of the sea so he opts for the salt pool. Once changed, he leaves the cabana and glides in. Basking in the buoyancy and cool slip of water over his skin, he is left in peace to enjoy the solitude.

His repose is interrupted when an elegantly attired woman saunters into the salt pool enclosure and drops an impossibly lush towel onto a deck chair. “You must be D. I. Poole. I am Octavia St. Remy. So glad you accepted my invitation. New blood gets a bit thin here. It’s lovely to have a new man to entertain.”

His memory is tweaked. He is sure he’s already met this woman, but where?

She sees his gaze on her, misreads it, and thrills at how easy some men are. She coolly doffs her robe and turns to display her ample charms to the fullest.

When he sees her twisted smile and cleavage, it jolts home. The restaurant, 5 weeks ago. This is the woman who had accosted him over his innocent cup of tea and made the most outrageous advances he’s ever endured in public. Well… here anyway.

As she steps daintily down the pool steps, tucking her brassy hair into a bathing cap, he notices her slightly tipsy movements and flushed visage. Ah, she’s been drinking. He can’t abide drunken women. Old memories swirl up of a young copper who suffered at the hands of such. His skin cools and his muscles tense up. His senses go on high alert.

He sidles along the edge of the pool but she is between him and the steps. _My god! Do people actually lick their lips when considering mayhem?_ Obviously, they do. She is backing him into a corner with high terraced gardens and if he doesn’t manage to stay out of reach, he’s going to have to learn to rock climb.

He tries to bluff his way out with polite small talk, “Very nice of you to invite me.”

She isn’t having any of it, “We’ve met, you and I. Do you remember?” she coos.

“Um, yep, I believe so. This is a very nice pool. Swim much?” He darts glances to both sides, no way to climb out easily. He stays just ahead of her.

“Oh, yes. I love to swim. Such good exercise in order to keep fit for other things.” She actually bats her eyes.

“Oh, ah, think it’ll rain? Could do with a break in this heat.”

She smiles, feinting to the left. He slips to the right. “I like the heat. It’s so… hot.”

He has no come-back for that. When women stop making sense, he gets nervous. Almost his perpetual state of being, really, but this one is making him VERY nervous.

He makes one last effort at nonchalance, “Well, it’s nice to have a pool to dive into…” Too late he realizes his faux pas, hopes she isn’t paying attention. Double entendre isn’t his forte but…

But, of course, slightly tipsy or not, she is primed for bad behaviour and takes her cue. She dives right at him, arms outstretched, reaching for his trunks. Years on the mean streets, fast reflexes, and adrenalin shoots him in a shallow dive that passes right over her. Her left hand rakes his thigh as he flies past but that is all. When she comes up, sure he will be waiting for her, he is already up the steps and grabbing his towel.

She is most vexed! “What? You can’t be leaving already? You’re barely wet. Come, let us discuss important matters here in the cool waters. My family is well placed to aid you in your works. Come back into the pool with me.”

He shakes his head, not trusting his voice at the moment.

She stamps a foot, somewhat hampered by buoyancy, “I order you to return! I opened my home to you, the least you can do is show some gratitude. Come back in here immediately.”

He looks at her coolly, his façade back in place. Glancing down at the bloody welts on his thigh, he says, “You have a funny way of showing hospitality. I believe my visit here is done.”

She sees he is serious. Surely he is just playing hard to get? She gives him her best hostess smile, “I’m very sorry. I did not mean to injure you. You simply weren’t where I thought you would be. Well, if you are done swimming, let me apologize properly. Let’s retire to the house for those drinks I promised you. What’s your pleasure?”

“I assure you, madam, our pleasures do not coincide. I will take my leave now, with your permission.” He continues drying off, frowning. Being a public servant means minding your P’s and Q’s. He can’t afford to insult this family but he has to escape. His concentration lapses just enough to almost get him into trouble again.

She has climbed out of the pool and is blocking the gate. She isn’t giving up. She’s removed her swim cap and is shaking out a cascade of hair with a very determined look in her eye. He doesn’t want to be alone with this woman one moment longer.

Not for the last time, he wishes Camille was with him.

Camille. Right. La Kaz. His clothes are still in the cabana, out of reach. Casting about, he sees there is only one way out of this trap. Barely two steps ahead of her, he slips over the pool railing and drops to the beach below.

Looking down the beach towards distant Saint Marie, he sees sunbathers and tourists all the way to town. He could just walk but he’s practically naked. _Bother._ Ignoring the harpy-like screeches from above, he lopes into the ocean and begins swimming.

It is the longest 15 minutes of his life. He’s never seen ‘Jaws’ but who doesn’t know the story?

_If I survive this, I promise to be a dull boy all the rest of my life! And take Camille EVERYWHERE I go!_

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Camille is startled at La Kaz’s beach-side patio by a loud ‘PSSST’ from a very stressed out, very grumpy, very relieved D.I. Poole.

Dwayne is called and he brings a bundle of unclaimed clothing from the station.

Richard does indeed wear a gaudy shirt and flip flops that day.

The next longest 15 minutes of his life is the drive home with a silently curious Camille who is eyeing his torn thigh with a bit too much attention, in his humble opinion.

As he climbs out of the Defender at his place, tired and fed up, Camille finally speaks, “Good thing you soaked that in salt water. I hear cat scratches can be nasty. No telling what germs you might have picked up! Maybe you should get a shot.”

He pauses, turns back to tell her surely she must know the difference between human and feline… but the look on her face shuts his mouth with a snap. He doesn’t recognize the expression but he is very glad it isn’t directed at him… more of a long-distance glare off to the west. He merely nods and thanks her for the drive then flees to his home.

Camille has put two and two together and come up with 666… the number of the beast.

She drives at high speed back to the estate and picks up Richard’s abandoned clothing from a bemused gardener she calls over to the front gate. The man brings the clothes with a strange look on his face. Camille can almost read his thought, _where is the man who was inside this suit?_ She almost says, _the man-eater got him_ , but doesn’t. She is very glad it isn’t true.

She is sorely tempted to take the clothes directly back to him… but hesitates and thinks better of it. She calls him instead and tells him she will take everything back to the station for pick-up tomorrow. He thanks her and says he is all right now and hangs up.

Somehow, she doesn’t think he’ll go swimming again. Anywhere. Any time. Too bad, those trunks were a lovely frame for a lovely frame.

So begins her life-long feud with Octavia St. Remy who never gives up, never gives in, and never gets to gloat to Elizabeth and Vivian about ‘the sweet treat’ that eludes her forever after.

But not for lack of trying.

END – Swimming with Sharks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ms. St. Remy appears in 'The Future' series, yet to be started.


	8. Why He Doesn't Use the Whiteboard Any More

He drags the white board out of its corner and sets it up.

The team is assembled.

The clues are ready to post.

It’s Show Time!!

She sidles up to him, speaks so low he can hardly hear, but his eyebrows almost shoot off his forehead as he belatedly deciphers her breathy words.

“Is that a ‘Board Master’ in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?”

Fidel is very proud to be the new recorder.

END


	9. Catherine Sees A Chance

**Catherine Sees A Chance**

She sees Richard sitting at a table in the back corner. His usual spot. Away from everybody. Slipping up behind him, she rests her hands on his shoulders. He practically jumps out of his skin. Laughing, hand to his throat, smoothing down his tie, he manages, “Oh! Catherine. You startled me. What’s up?”

The glib reply dies on her lips. He is tense and wooden under her hands. It must be very painful! She begins kneading, driving her work-hardened fingers into his muscles like knives. Leaning down, she whispers, “You are! Mon Dieu, Richard! How can you stand all these knots?”

He is trying to resist for the sake of it, she can tell. Heaven forbid the man accept the slightest touch or friendly gesture but she knows the magic her hands can inflict upon a man, any man, and he is no more able to resist than to stop breathing.

He stiffens up, almost breaks free, then slumps and his head falls forward. A very long painful sound escapes him. Oh, yes, he is in knots, all right. Knots and fists and lumps, hard hard under his skin. Well, she can’t help him solve crime but she can help him relax. It is her forte, after all.

As she works his shoulders, he begins telling her about the latest case. She lets the words wash over her. She knows he doesn’t really expect her to offer advice. He certainly did not need any. He is brilliant and everyone knows he will solve it, sooner rather than later. But, perhaps, he will solve it sooner YET if she can just unbend the washboard that is his back!

Her hands drop lower, following the tension to the source. He gasps but doesn’t stop her. She knows it hurts. Others have told her so. But he doesn’t. Strange, his tolerance for pain. Another facet to add to her little store of ‘Poole-isms’. Gently, she slips a forearm around him, catching him across the collar bones and holding him still as she works a fist into his lower back, just above the belt.

He flinches but is soon humming. She can feel the tension easing, draining away. He is finally relaxed enough to sit back up, turning to her over his shoulder, just beginning to thank her, when she sees Camille crossing the road.

“One moment, cheri, then we are done,” she murmurs, smiling to herself. One more move. A very special one taught to her long ago by a very well-known woman. She caresses him from shoulders to belt, right along his spine, pushes, pauses, then drops her fingertips below the belt and presses very hard. As she does so, she whispers, “Camille,” and steps away to leave him.

He shoots up in his chair, great surprise in his eyes, not really seeing anything at the moment. A very warm golden cloud of something is hovering right over his lower back. Warm and soft and gentle. It is hesitant, seeking, unsure.

When his eyesight clears enough to see Camille standing in front of him, the cloud speeds right to his core and embeds itself.

Camille is just ready to chastise him for leaving the station, for being cranky because the case isn’t going well, for being his usual grumpy self... but she doesn’t. She is suddenly waylaid, blind-sided, and lost in his bright green gaze. He is looking at her like he’s just seen her for the first time.

Instead, she asks the other question that had popped into her head when she’d first walked in the door, “Why was Maman running her hands all over you? Do you suddenly have a thing for older women?” It comes out harsher than she’d intended… because… well, just because.

He seems to be coming out of some sort of daze… like his murder-solving fugue but happier. A touch, she looks down. He’s taken her hand. A huge shiver runs up her arm and settles in her heart. She sits. They regard one another quietly. Lots of information is passing between them, none of it verbal.

Across the room, Catherine watches with satisfaction and not a little regret. He had felt so good under her hands.

Pity.

What sacrifices one has to make in order to get grandchildren.

END – Catherine Sees A Chance


	10. Echoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will post daily.

**Echoes**

Part 1 of 5

He wakes up. He feels rested. Revitalized. Refreshed. _Why does that seem so odd_ , he wonders? Looking about the sumptuous room, he notices the fresh flowers… _white English roses… isn’t that nice?_ The feel of cool silk against his skin makes him look down at himself… _lovely midnight blue sleepwear… so cool… so comfortable._ The bright light beaming in past the velvet drapes surely means it is very hot outside… but in this room all is calm and cool and serene.

He closes his eyes once more and sighs happily. All is right in his world. He is feeling much better now and soon he’ll be ready to return to… to… his eyes open once more. _Return to what?_ He casts about for some clue then sees the medical equipment unobtrusively lined up in the corner of the room. So… he’s been ill, obviously, but he feels so much better now. As he shifts on the King-sized bed, a soft alarm sounds and a nurse bustles in. He watches her approach. Does he know this woman? No, he doesn’t. He can’t have been in care for long then if he doesn’t recognize his own nurse, surely?

“Hello,” he says, surprised to hear the faint quaver in his voice, “Who are you now?”

The woman checks something above his head then presses a button on the side table, “My name is Carol. I’m so glad you’re awake. How do you feel?”

“Me? A bit weak, truth to tell. Where am I? This is too nice a room for a hospital.”

Carol doesn’t answer. He hears footsteps quickly approaching. Within moments a lovely woman, dressed demurely, blonde hair swept up in an elegant ‘do, enters the room, smiles most happily and comes to him, “Why, darling, you are in your own home. OUR home. You were in an accident and you’ve been asleep for almost a year… but now you’re awake and we’re together again.”

He frowns, “I see. Why don’t I remember you? And… why don’t I remember ME?”

The woman sits at his bedside, takes his hand and he sees the bright flash of matching wedding rings as she says, “Your name is Richard Poole. We’ve been married for 3 years and we are deeply in love. Last year you were in a car accident that put you into a coma. I wanted you to have the best round-the-clock care so you’ve been here at home this past year. This is only the third time you’ve been awake for more than a few minutes and I’m so happy. I hope you are back for good this time. We have so much… married life to catch up on.” She turns away and nods to Carol, “Would you like some tea? I have your favourite brewed every day just in case you wake up.”

“My favourite? I don’t remember my favourite. What is it?”

She smiles again as she helps him sit up against his pillows, her hands sliding over him in a slightly disturbing manner, “Why, darling, it’s Da Hong Pao! Surely you remember?”

Something twigs at the back of his mind but it’s too faint to capture. Da Hong Pao. Why did those words conjure up deep brown eyes? He shakes his head. The memory, if it WAS that, is gone. He accepts the fine china tea cup, very translucent and very expensive. “Um, no, sorry. There’s not much going on in my head right now.” He takes a sip. Absolute ambrosia washes over his tongue and he gasps, “This is wonderful! Absolutely wonderful! Thank you… um… er… oh, dear. This is very embarrassing but I can’t recall your name.”

The woman stands, takes the china out of his hands and sets it down. She turns back and leans down to kiss him deeply, hungrily, almost voraciously. At his involuntary flinch, she backs off and finishes with a chaste kiss that confuses him mightily. When she stands back up, her eyes are positively glowing.

“Why, darling man, dearest husband, my little sweet treat, my name is Octavia.”

END – part 1


	11. Echoes

Part 2 of 5

_Octavia… Octavia_ … he wings this name through his mind but nothing rings a bell. Except… he has a brief sense of being wet and… _sand? Lots and lots of sand?_ His ruminations are interrupted by the entry of a second much younger nurse bringing a tray of dainties to go with the tea.

Octavia jumps hurriedly to her feet and takes the tray, “You’re not to be in here! Where’s Bernard?”

“He’s taking a delivery,” the young woman says, eyeing him as if surprised... which surprises HIM. _Why is she surprised? Surely she’s been caring for me for a year now?_ He quirks an eyebrow. Octavia sees this and chivvies both women out of the room, rather brusquely in his humble opinion. _Hmm, does my lovely wife have a temper_ , he wonders?

When she turns back to him, he sees the deep ‘I want’ line between her brows and realizes that, _yes, she DOES have a temper. Didn’t his father tell him long ago to beware of_ … His father. The image of a stern commanding man springs full-blown into his mind.

Something about all this warns him to remain silent. _Now… why would the memory of his father make him suspicious of this woman in front of him? Octavia, did she say? Why doesn’t he like that name? What name DOES he like?_ Something is buzzing around in the back of his mind but it won’t come any closer. _Give it time_ , he thinks, _it will come. It ALWAYS comes._ He takes another sip of tea and the scientific name rings clearly in his head… _Camellia_ _sinensis_ … which echoes strangely. He listens carefully… _something is coming… it’s…_

“That girl,” his wife laughs. “She’s new. A family emergency called away Marlene and this is all the island could supply us with on such short notice. Not very professional, I’m afraid, and a trifle young but…”

The echo is gone. “Island?” He jumps on this, “We’re on an island? Which one?”

“Oh,” his wife scoffs, “Nowhere important. Don’t you worry about that right now. The important thing is that you are back and we can pick up where we left off a year ago.”

Something in her voice gives him goosebumps… and not in a nice way. “Um, what were we doing a year ago?” he asks a bit hesitantly.

She gives him a predatory smile, “Why, Richard, we were trying to start a family.”

END – part 2


	12. Echoes

Part 3 of 5

Marlene’s replacement, little ‘unprofessional’ and ‘the best the island had to offer’ is running to her room. Slamming the door, she slides on her knees, reaches under her mattress and pulls out the contraband cell phone. She punches buttons furiously and covers her eyes as she waits. When the call is answered she blurts out, “Cousin Dwayne! It's Josephine!  I found him! The Chief! He’s on the St. Remy estate!”

At the station, Officer Dwayne Myers bolts upright in outrage. Octavia St. Remy… and the Chief!! Of course! Why hadn’t anyone thought of that? When the Chief had disappeared out of the hospital, everyone assumed he’d wandered off to fight crime in his altered state of reality. The car crash had addled his brains a bit and his memory was gone... temporarily, they’d been told. Then HE was gone. Just gone. They have been scouring the island for him for a week now.

“Josephine! Are you sure it’s the Chief? What’s goin’ on there?”

“Yes, it’s him. I recognized him as soon as I saw him. He doesn’t know who he is or who SHE is. She won’t let anyone into his room but I got in by mistake just now. I heard her tell him they’re married! And he’s wearing a wedding ring! Oh, Dwayne, I got a bad feeling!”

“YOU got a bad feeling! I’m SICK! OK, you get back there and make a ruckus of some kind! Try to keep him safe until I get there. I’m calling up the others and we’ll be there as soon as we can! Go, girl, go!” He slams down the phone and whips out his cell as he dives out the door and down to his bike.

His two calls are brief and he has to hang up on Camille’s litany of furious French swear words... _holy moly… Octavia St. Remy is toast! Camille is gonna murder her!_ After a moment’s thought, he makes a third call then leans over the bike’s handlebars and slipstreams his way west at breakneck speed.

As suicidal as his pace is, Camille beats him to the front gate in a huge cloud of roiling dust and the smell of burnt rubber as he jumps off the bike. They frantically buzz the house but no one seems to be answering. Leaning on the bars, staring up at the mansion, they hear loud voices and crashing sounds. “Good girl, Jo, you keep that shark at bay,” Dwayne grits through clenched teeth.

Camille races away along the high stone wall, heading for a tree that will give her access to the grounds. He pelts after her, catching her just as her feet leave the ground, “No! No, no, no, Camille! We have to wait. Wait, girl, wait!”

She whirls on him, teeth bared, “Wait! Wait for what? For her to eat him alive? Oh, that bitch! How did she manage it? I’m going to kill her so dead!” While he grapples with her, Fidel pulls up in a car that he must have commandeered on the road. He is bristling with indignation and he joins the struggle to keep Camille on the right side of the fence.

“NO!” Dwayne tells her, “The Commissioner is on it! I called him after I called you. I can only hope he got a message through to the house before…”

Camille stills in his arms and gulps, “… before…?”

Dwayne looks to Fidel who looks back in sudden fury, “Well, before he comes to any… harm, you know?”  Now it is Fidel who is trying to scramble up the tree, oaths flying out of him like sparks. Together, Dwayne and Camille pull him down and they huddle together in frozen uncertainty.

Camille mutters, “If the Commissioner DID get a message through, what will she do?” They look at each other and race back to the gate just as a big black car noses up on the inside. They stand athwart the gate, arms crossed, and stare down the driver… who sees HIS cousin Fidel... puts 2 and 2 together... doesn't like the answer... and turns off the car.

Loud voices are heard. There is furious motion, a car door slams open and the Chief flies out in a silk robe, whirls and shouts back inside, “I don’t care if you ARE my wife! No one acts like that and gets away with it on MY watch!” Then he looks up into three sets of wide eyes through the wrought-iron gate.

END – part 3


	13. Echoes

Part 4 of 5

As soon as he sees them… sees HER… everything slams back into focus. If it weren’t so awful, the comical look on his face would have made them all laugh. His eyes flare then narrow, his whole face darkens then pales to alabaster. He leans down very carefully and glares at Octavia, the ‘I want’ line between her brows deeper than ever. “How DARE you,” he breathes… and that is all.

Another big black car pulls up behind the Defender. The Commissioner steps out and marches ponderously forward to stand with military defiance in front of the team, “Open this gate,” he intones.

The driver is out of the car and complying without a single word to his employer… soon to be ex-employer… _and good riddance_ , he thinks to himself! _Maybe policing is something I should look into? Cousin Fidel certainly looks mighty fine right now. The Police Commissioner looks like the wrath of God... and the Police Chief (for he recognizes him too now) looks like an avenging fury. Oh, yeah, THESE are the people I’d rather be working with… not THIS woman!_

As the gate swings open just enough to admit a silk-clad body outside into the embrace of three VERY happy people, the Commissioner somehow manages to squeeze his prodigiousness inside, goes to the St. Remy car and gets in. The ex-driver listens very carefully but doesn’t hear anything so he turns to Fidel and starts making inquiries about his new career.

Dwayne sees the Commissioner has everything well in hand, gives a thumbs-up and turns to his Chief. He hears a brief whispered exchange between him and Camille… something about ‘virtue intact’… but that’s none of HIS business. He takes his Chief by the shoulder and guides him gently back to the Defender. He settles the man into the passenger seat and watches Camille leap behind the wheel. Within moments, there is just a rooster-tail of dust hanging in the air. The Chief is safe… well… safer. He’s with Camille now and that’s all she wrote. There is a brief flash as something small and shiny goes flying out the Chief’s window… then they are gone.

Wee Josephine comes out of the house, shouts “I QUIT!” to the St. Remy car, and joins the scrum in front of the gates. Dwayne welcomes her with a hug and settles her into his bike’s sidecar for the drive back to town. She’ll have to give a statement and Dwayne is dying to hear ALL the details.

Dwayne turns back to Fidel, “I’ll meet you back at the station. It’s goin’ to take some creative juices to write up THIS missin’ person’s report.”

“Not to worry,” Fidel replies. “I’m sure the Commissioner will help with the actual wording.” He takes his cousin by the arm and they get into the borrowed car. Dwayne isn’t at all surprised to see the young man filling out admission forms back at the station when he and Jo get there.

Camille and the Chief don’t show up at all.

When the Commissioner arrives, he does indeed draw up the bulk of the report. Turns out Ms. St. Remy had only been doing her Christian duty in helping a dear family friend in his time of need. She hadn’t realized that he was ‘missing’, had only his best interests at heart, had been a little over-zealous in her concern for his health and safety, blah, blah, blah…

Dwayne has trouble keeping a straight face during all this but is happy to hand the forms over for official signature. Good thing HIS name isn’t going on these papers… they would tell a completely different story! As a matter of fact… he wonders how the Chief is doing right now?

Then he remembers the look on Camille’s face as she’d helped him into the Defender.

Salvation. Redemption. Starved. Determined.

O _h, yeah… the Chief is in good hands. If he didn’t have his memory back by now, he is one lost little puppy… in the coils of a boa. Poor little puppy._

END - part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, my son asked if I can spell 'restraining order'.  
> Nope. S/P


	14. Echoes

Part 5 of 5

Fidel’s cousin and Jo wait patiently for their paperwork to be completed then leave together, promising to meet Dwayne later at La Kaz for a much fuller and more personal retelling of SOME impressions that didn’t make it into the reports.

The Commissioner finishes and sighs, “Tell the Inspector that I need his signature…” At Dwayne’s sudden reticence, the big man quirks a brow, “… tomorrow. Let him rest today. He’s been through quite the ordeal. Being cared for against your will can be quite taxing.” Now it is Dwayne’s turn to quirk an eyebrow.

Fidel scoffs then gives a bland look when the big man gives him a questioning stare, “Yes, sir. I’m sure the Chief will be in bright and early tomorrow, ready to take up where he left off. And… sir… what of Ms. St. Remy?”

“Ah, yes. She’s being called off the island. Some family emergency in Europe, I believe. We won’t be seeing her for many months. Time enough for wounds to heal.”

“Wounds, maybe…” Dwayne mutters, “… but Camille’s memory…”

“Sergeant Bordey will accept the facts,” the Commissioner states. “Certain men… men of authority… sometimes attract unwanted attentions. They have to bear the burden... as do their partners.”

Dwayne gives the Commissioner a look… which the Commissioner returns with aplomb. _Oh, boy_ , Dwayne thinks, _I wish I could ask him for particulars but… Hmm, maybe I’ll just pretend I didn’t have that thought. I’m here to protect my team… no one else._ The Commissioner nods as if reading Dwayne’s mind and marches out of the station. Quiet descends. Dwayne turns to Fidel, “Coffee?”

Fidel smiles, “Sure. Why not? What a mundane end to a crazy week.”

As Dwayne brews a new pot, the two men regard one another in amusement. “So…” Dwayne drawls, “… the Chief and women! What IS it with that guy? He doesn’ have a clue yet he has women ready to spill blood over him!”

Fidel shrugs, “I don’t understand it at all. I see it but… I just don’t get it.”

Dwayne nods, “We have to get him married off as soon as possible. We won’ have any peace until he’s off the market and safely tucked away in a home with 6 or 7 kids underfoot.”

Fidel laughs, “I want to be in the room when you tell him that!”

Dwayne grins, “Me, too. Maybe I’ll write him a letter!”

They are laughing and enjoying a moment of peace when the phone rings. Dwayne groans, “This better NOT be a crime call! We’re 2 officers down and I’m in no mood for a murder!” He takes the call and his eyes light up as he turns to Fidel,“Right. Right. OK, Camille. See you in the mornin'.” He gently hangs up the phone and chuckles, “I don’ think I’m gonna have to have that conversation with the Chief. Camille says he’s restin'… now… and she’s gonna stay with him to make sure he isn’ disturbed.”

“Oh, right. Disturbed. By what, I wonder?” Fidel muses.

“By other women, if I read her a’right. She was kinda out of breath too. Oh, man, his goose is cooked.”

“Hmm, I don’t think he’ll mind too much. I’ve been watching them these past few months. If they can’t make a go of it, I don’t know what else will work.”

“Yeah, by the time Ms. St. Remy returns to Saint-Marie, I think her best laid plans will be ashes.”

“Yes, ashes. Poor woman.”

“Fidel! Don’ tell me to sympathize with her?”

“No, of course not! It’s just kind of sad, you know… being thwarted at every turn.”

“Yeah, but think of how peaceful it will be around here if we don’ have to do the thwartin’!”

They clink coffee mugs.

“Amen to that,” Fidel agrees and they spend an uneventful shift of peace and quiet, manning the station while the world goes on without them.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is definitely another chapter banging around in my head... don't know if I'll ever post it but it's the conversation in the Defender on its way back to his place. Perhaps they deserve their privacy. S/P


	15. Echoes Plus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just knew there was another scene to this story.

**Echoes Plus**

Part 1 of 2

They are in the Defender and high-tailing it for home. He is sick with fury and confusion but he knows ONE thing perfectly well… he is with Camille now and he is safe. Looking down at his hands, he sees the gold wedding band winking obscenely in the sunlight. He twists it off and heaves it out his window into the weeds. _There! Let it rot for all I care!_ He clutches at his temples and tries to regain his composure. The last few minutes have been very upsetting and now he needs to catch up!

He drops his hands and stares out the front window, “How long?” he asks.

“How long what?”

“How long was I gone? Was it really a whole year?”

“A year? NO! You went missing out of the hospital on day two and you were gone for a week.”

Somehow, this doesn’t sound like a happy thought for her but he is overjoyed with relief! “A week? Oh, god, that’s wonderful! She told me a year. What a liar!”

Camille jerks a quick glance at him, “You really didn’t remember anything about anything?”

“No, not even my own name. It was very frightening.”

“I can imagine,” she mumbles and keeps driving. There is a long silence while they both think their own thoughts.

Finally, he looks to her and studies her for a bit, “Um, Camille, you look awful. Are you feeling all right?”

She hears this and seems to puff up with anger… or something. He is just beginning to regret saying this to her when she wrenches the wheel hard to the right and runs the truck off the road and into dense jungle brush. His yell of alarm is cut off as she slams on the brakes and throws herself into his arms, “I look awful because I haven’t been home in three days! I haven’t eaten or slept since you went missing! I was so sure you were dead! Oh, Richard, how could you have gone to that woman? How COULD you?!” she staccatos out then burst into tears.

He is wooden in her embrace, not sure if he should hold her off or pat her back or what, “I didn’t GO to anyone! I only woke up 30 minutes ago and there I was! She said she was my wife and I…”

Camille gulps and lifts swimming eyes to his, “Did she… did you…?”

He can barely meet her gaze it is so intense, “Did I… what?”

She blushs hotly, “You know.”

“I do?”

“Did she… did she… have you?”

“Well, of course, she HAD me! I was in her house for a whole week. I couldn’t very well escape without knowing who I was or where I was or…” but he has to stop at the horrified look on her face.

“You made love to her?” she squeals in abject loss.

“WHAT? NO!! God, Camille, no! Or, at least, I… I…” Now he is looking a bit horrified himself. “I don’t remember! I don’t remember anything until 30 minutes ago. I knew something was wrong but not what.” Now they are looking at each other in dismay. He is the first to speak, “Surely a man can’t… I mean… it isn’t possible… if he’s asleep?”

Camille is shaking with repressed anger, “Oh, I don’t put ANY-thing past that creature! She had you for a whole week, in her bed, defenseless and trusting. Oh, who could resist…” Her mouth snaps shut.

He is blushing now, very quiet, “Any woman with a conscience would resist… and I fear that woman doesn’t have one. Oh, now I can’t stop thinking about it! Camille, what do I do? How do I know for sure?”

“Calm yourself and think. What do you remember? Did she say or do anything to make you think that you’d… been intimate?” She suddenly sniffs and leans close to his cheek, “Ugh, I can smell her perfume on you! I’m sure it’s very expensive but it smells like poison to me!”

He swipes at his cheek, “Well, she was kissing me when that young nurse knocked over the teapot…” He suddenly sits up in fresh shock, “… the TEAPOT! A whole pot of Da Hong Pao tea, Camille!” New horror is dawning in his eyes.

She just has to laugh, “Well, you’re turning back into your old self, that’s for sure. Forget about the tea, Richard! So… she was kissing you? Did you like it? Were you kissing her back?” Her hands tighten down on him.

“Um, no, I didn’t like it and I most definitely did NOT kiss her back. I was trying to be polite.”

“What about before today?”

“I have no memory but she said…”

“What? Tell me!” She gives his a little shake.

“She said that I’d waked briefly twice before and that maybe THIS time…”

“What? What! You tell me or I’ll…” with harder shakes.

A hot blush flares, “Oh, that maybe THIS time I’d…”

A sharp poke in the ribs spurs him on, “Ow! Steady on! It’s embarrassing to say. Just know she was kissing me and I didn’t like it, OK?”

Camille gives a little gasp, a hand over her mouth, “She was trying to seduce you, wasn’t she? When we came to your rescue? She was, wasn’t she?” More shakes.

He wrests her hands off his pajama lapels and pleads with her, “Camille, please! Just get me home! I want out of these clothes. You can burn them on the beach for all I care. I need a shower and I need to scrub the past 7 days off my skin and out of my mind!”

She stills in his arms, “OK. OK. I can do that. We need to get you home and you need…” His eyebrows jink up minutely. “… you need some tender loving care of the RIGHT kind. I really thought you were dead, you know. I was forced to accept a cold hard truth and I think I need to tell you what it was.”

“What was it?” he asks quietly as she slides off his lap and back behind the wheel of the truck.

As she starts it up and backs onto the road, she says very firmly, “That I love you.”

He studies her all the way back to his place.

When she parks the truck under the trees, he sits quietly and waits for her to come around to his side and open the door. He slips out and takes her proffered arm. He leans on her the whole way to his home, noticing for the first time how firm she is, how soft, how supple, how… how feminine. As she fumbles with the door, he asks her, “Have you always been a woman? Why am I noticing it just now?”

She gives him a long slow look, shakes her head and thinks… _SO Richard… to the very end_ … but says aloud, “Because I am choosing to show you now. Normally I’m undercover.”

He nods sagely, “Ah,” as if he understands what she just said. She takes him inside and sits him on his bedside. He looks up at her and gently takes her hands.

She stands and just looks down at him for a long quiet time. “Now what?” she finally says.

“Now I need to scrub myself clean. Can I give you the chore of burning these clothes?” He begins undoing buttons and unbelting his robe.

“Are you sure? They look awfully expensive.”

“Can’t you smell them? They reek of ‘poison’!”

She puts her hands on his shoulders and leans down slowly. He freezes in place, mid-button. She passes her face over him, taking deep breathes, kneeling between his knees to finish the job. She lifts drugged eyes, “I smell the poison… but I smell something much better beneath the poison…”

“Oh?” he croaks, “What?”

She closes her eyes and sighs, hard, “You.”

END – part 1


	16. Echoes Plus

Part 2 of 2

He stands up shakily, she has to move back to allow him room, “Oh, Christ!” he mutters, “I’m going into the bathroom now. Don’t you dare follow me!” She stands placidly and watches him stagger away. She hears the bathroom door close and the shower turn on. When he calls to her, she walks around the bed and sees him through the cut-away. He is holding out a bundle of silk to her. “Here. Take it. Burn it. Please don’t come back in until… until I’m calmer.”

“How will I know that?” she murmurs as if in a dream.

“I’ll come out to you on the veranda. Can you do that? Can you give me time to…”

“… to ready yourself? Oh, you bet!” She grabs the bundle and marches down into his little kitchen, grabs the box of matches off the table, and goes outside to do her duty.

It is such a merry fire. She sees wonderful shapes in the twisting flames. Potential builds up all around her. When the charred remains are smouldering quietly, she returns to the veranda and sits in a wicker chair and watches the ocean. The waves are hypnotic. Fatigue washes over her and when he comes out she is almost asleep. The clink of glass rouses her and she turns to see him in a fresh shirt and casual pants she’s never seen before, “I didn’t know you wore anything else but suits and those striped pajamas,” she says, accepting a glass of wine.

“Well, neither seemed appropriate given the circumstances. Cheers.” They clink glasses and drink, turning to watch the waves together.

After many moments, she starts the conversation, “So… do you think she got to you? Did you make love to her?” It is almost the ONLY question on her mind.

He is watching the movement of the water, letting it sooth him, “I still can’t remember, sorry. I hope not. I really do. I know I’m known far and wide as a woman repellent but… I really hope not. I’d rather die untouched than be touched by the wrong woman.”

She chokes a bit on her wine, sets it down, gives him her undivided attention, “What?”

He ducks his head and won’t look at her, “Um, well, you know. It’s been a long time since I’ve… well, it’s been a long time. Never, maybe, but I’m not admitting to anything until I know more about these feelings of yours. In the truck..." his eyes lock onto hers, it is his 'whiteboard' look, fierce and focused, "... you said you loved me. Is that true?” She nods. “You didn’t say that because you were upset or relieved or maybe semi-psychotic from sleep-deprivation?” She shakes her head. “I see. So you do? Love me? Really? Is this a temporary insanity or is it…?”

She lays a hand over his on the table top and he hushes, “Not temporary and... insanity, maybe, but I’m not admitting to anything until I know how you feel about all this.”

He looks at their hands, feels the slight flutters in her fingertips, feels the answering flutters deep inside himself. He raises his eyes and says slowly, “I feel… I feel like a man who was blind and suddenly sees. I feel like a man who sees his future looking back at him. I feel like a man who wants to take a chance… and you into my arms. Is that possible?”

She slips out of her chair and kneels between his knees once more, catching him by surprise. She runs hot hands up his inner thighs and at his startled jerk she changes direction and sweeps them up to his chest. She lays her head over his heart and leans onto him. “Mmm, you feel so good. Put your arms around me.” He does so, a bit hesitantly but most eagerly. “Mmm, that feels even better. You smell so much better now… just your own smell… so sweet… so Richard…”

He coughs, “It’s Crabtree-Evelyn ‘West India Lime’, actually.”

She rears up off him. His eyes flare in loss. “Lime? You HATE lime!”

He pulls her back down, snugs her back into place, “I hate the taste of lime. Not the smell.”

“Mmm,” she hums, starting to sniff him once more, “Is she washed off you? Are you clean?”

He is stroking the long sweep of her back, “Yes. I didn’t exactly use the loo brush but I’m scoured from top to bottom and there better not be a speck of her left on my hide.”

She lifts her face to rub noses with him, “Still, you can never to too sure, can you?” He is swooning with the wash of Camille-ness and can only nod helplessly. “I should check, just to be certain, don’t you think?” He nods harder. She smiles, stands, holds out a hand to him. He looks up at her for a long considering moment. “Are you having second thoughts?” she asks.

He gulps and sits up suddenly, “NO! God, no! I’m just savouring the moment, you know, before everything changes forever. Can’t a man enjoy his moment of transformation?”

She pulls him to his feet, “Oh, transformation. Is that what you call it? I call it something else…”

Her eyes are promising such wonders! His pulse is hammering. He closes his eyes briefly and tries to get a grip on his galloping heart, “What? What do you call it?”

Her kiss is swift and hot, “I call it the conquering of the Richard. I call it the best thing in the whole world. I have other names for it, care to hear them?”

She is pulling him through the doors. He sees his bed over her shoulder. He sees the fire in her eyes. He can barely catch a breath and has to rasp, “Yes. I want to hear them, every single one, don’t leave anything out.”

As she gently maneuvers him onto the bed, she purrs, “Oh, I’m not gonna leave out a single thing…”

And she doesn’t.

When he is asleep, as tousled and satisfied as a man can get and still be in one piece, she calls the station and makes their excuses. She knows Dwayne isn’t fooled but one must keep up appearances, mustn’t one? As she cleaves to his sleeping body once more, she groans. She wants him again already! What kind of monster is she?

Her self-castigation is interrupted most happily as he reaches for her with slow swimming motions. He catches her and pulls her hard against him. His head settles onto her breast and he begins nuzzling. She looks into his somnolent face and watches him rev up for round two.

In his sleep.

_Hmm_ , she thinks, _apparently we are two monsters together...also… it appears a man CAN in his sleep... THIS man at least. Oh, this is going to need a most delicate investigative approach. Ms. St. Remy and I have a VERY important one-on-one interview to look forward to… with possible bloodshed… PROBABLE bloodshed… but later. Yes, later. Right now…_

She stills her beating heart and waits to see what he has in store for her.

END


	17. Self-Improvement - part 1 of 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daughter Irene wants to help with this one.

**Self-Improvement**

Richard Poole is fretting once more about his weight. He needs to lose at LEAST a stone, if not two… but how to manage it?

He can’t run or bike or swim like he did back in England. He would be trampled by goats or steamed alive inside the skin-tight biking suit or… he shudders to think about the sharks! So! Definitely none of those options… not here in the Caribbean… it’s always so bloody HOT!

But… how to do it? Eat less? He hardly ate anything at all NOW! How is he to cut down on nothing? Work later hours? Already tried. Stop sleeping? Already happening. So what was left? Give up the Jelly Babies? No! Never! Besides… those calories don’t count!

He needs an exercise that he can do maybe 20 minutes in the morning and again in the evening… quick and easy with a minimum of fuss. He needs something he’d LIKE to do… something enjoyable… something right at his fingertips… without a lot of equipment… but what?

Perhaps… perhaps he needs a partner? He’s heard about this technique. You get a friend to agree to join your mad scheme and you chivvy each other until you both do the workout. Now… who can he get to agree to THAT? Maybe he needs to hire a personal trainer? But his schedule is so erratic… he can’t keep to anyone else’s calendar… he needs someone who already has the same schedule… but WHO?

Oh, this is SUCH a bother! Why can’t he solve this simple fundamental problem? He looks to the clock. It’s getting late. Enough trouble-shooting for tonight. He’ll sleep on it. Maybe an answer will come in his sleep? Assuming he DOES sleep! His dreams have been quite worrisome these past few weeks… months even. He needs to forget about her for just a few hours… surely he’s capable of THAT!

As he turns out his bedside lamp and settles onto the pillows, he laces his hands behind his head and smiles. _Yes, maybe SHE can help. I’ll ask her in the morning. Her outlook on life is so different from my own… surely she’ll have some perfectly logical suggestions?_

As he sinks down into sleep, his last thought… _maybe I need a French solution to an English problem_ …

To be continued… (I hope)


	18. Self-Improvement - part 2 of 6

Part 2 of 6

Next Day

He waits until he can get her alone before speaking to her. He is half-way through his request when he notices the wide-eyed stare she is giving him, “What? What is it? Is this too much to ask? You don’t have to say ‘yes’ if you don’t really want to. I won’t hold it against you.”

“Are you… are you FINALLY asking me… actually ASKING me…?” is all she can manage in her surprise.

“Well, yes, it’s time I did something proactive about this. It’s been bothering me for some time now and it’s definitely time to do something about it, don’t you think?”

She studies his earnest face for some time before smiling, “Yes. Yes, I do! I was beginning to get worried. You’re absolutely right! It’s time to act.”

Now it is his turn to study her face, “Um, sorry, I didn’t realize you were aware of the problem.”

She laughs with delight, “Oh… I am SO aware! Very aware! But now it’s going to be all right!”

“I certainly hope so. When should we start? Can you come to my place tonight?”

“Tonight? Well… sure! Is 7 o’clock OK?”

“That’s fine. Should I eat beforehand?”

“Oh, well, nothing too heavy. I wouldn’t want you to fall asleep before we’re done! Why don’t I bring us something lovely to enjoy afterwards? Do you have wine?”

“Wine? Isn’t that a lot of extra calories? Surely we won’t need wine?”

She gives him a heavy-lidded once over, “I know I won’t… and if you’re content without it then let’s give it a miss… this time. You’re probably right. I wouldn’t want anything to interfere with my memory… not tonight of all nights!”

He taps her hand just as she turns away. She swings back, a small smile on her lips. “And, please don’t start me off with anything too strenuous. It’s been a long time since I last had a real hard cardio so I’ll need to work my way back up to peak performance. Please be patient... but I don’t need to tell you that, do I? I’m sure you know what you’re doing. You are the expert after all.”

She stiffens slightly, frowns, “Well, maybe I am but it’s not like I’ve had a lot of partners, you know.”

He smiles, “No, I didn’t expect that I would be your first. That’s all right, I don’t mind.”

“My first?” she gasps.

“As long as you don’t mind being MY first,” he adds.

As he walks away, he wonders about the strange look on her face.

End – part 2


	19. Self-Improvement - part 3 of 6

Part 3 of 6

Later that same day Camille rushes off to La Kaz in the mid-afternoon as excited and breathless as she can ever remember being! _Tonight! Tonight, at long last!_ Her thoughts are awhirl as she rushes up to her mother, “Maman! Do you have any good beef in the kitchen? Maybe some new potatoes and some other small veg I can have for tonight?” 

Catherine lays down her towel and regards her daughter. Something is up; the heightened colour, the shining eyes, the barely suppressed jitteriness. _Ah! I recognize these signs… and it’s about time!_ She smiles in relief, “Of course, chérie, anything to help a romantic supper along.” As she escorts Camille to the kitchen, she can’t help asking, “So who is the lucky man? Is it one of the blind dates? Ah! I know! It’s the teacher! He was lovely.” 

Camille shifts from foot to foot as she watches her mother trim and wrap up two steaks, “No, no, not him! He was SUCH a bore! He thought he was so smart when actually he just didn’t measure up at all.”

“Measure up to what, darling? Well, then, is it the doctor? He was nice. The potatoes are in the bin.” 

Camille washes the tubers and flings them into the little basket her mother is putting together, “Oh, the doctor! He was so egotistical that he should marry himself! He wasn’t shy and vulnerable at all. Got any veg?” 

Catherine holds up a small bowl of golden flesh, “Baby carrots? Not shy? Well, is it the lawyer?” 

“Perfect! Thank you so much! The lawyer? NO! Oh, god, he was so sleazy! He needs to learn to treat a woman with dignity and respect. What about a light desert?”

Catherine frowns, leans on the counter and faces Camille, “Not another morsel until you tell me what this is all about! Not boring and stupid?  Not egotistical but shy?  Not sleazy and disrespectful? If it isn’t the teacher or the doctor or the lawyer then who is it… an Indian chief? What epitome of manhood have you found all on your own without my help?” 

Camille stills suddenly then laughs nervously, “No, not an Indian chief. Besides, where on earth would I meet one of those? No, you will just have to wait until tomorrow… and Maman?” 

“Oui?” Catherine pauses in wrapping up two small eclairs. 

“Would you be shocked if I don’t go home tonight?” 

“Darling, you do whatever you need to do to make him earn this meal. You’re a grown woman and you have your own life. You don’t need to check in with me. I’ll sleep peacefully knowing that you are finally addressing the grandchildren problem.” 

“Oh, Maman, don’t say anything like that in front of him! He’s very reserved and you might…” 

“Oh! Do I know him? Is he coming here? Will I meet him? What…” 

Camille throws up her hands, “No more questions, Maman, please! Just wish me luck!” She snatches up the basket and rushes out the door. 

Catherine calls after her, “I do, chérie, I do!” but she is gone. Catherine sighs and settles back in satisfaction. As the afternoon quiets down to a drowse, she begins to day-dream of the pitter-patter of tiny feet. Many many tiny feet.

End – part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Away for a bit. Back after Nov. 11th.


	20. Self-Improvement - part 4 of 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back from vacation. Now where was I?

**Part 4 of 6**

A bit later than that

Catherine’s peaceful pleasant late afternoon is rudely interrupted by THAT man! “Merde,” she whispers as she sees his be-suited bulk hove into view, “He’d better not pick a fight with me today! Not today of ALL days.” She smiles thinly and approaches him, “How may I help you, Inspector?” Privately she thinks, _state your business and be gone, Englishman!_

He shuffles his feet and takes her aside. Her curiosity is piqued despite her peevishness. He speaks low, “I just wanted to ask you if you had any small weights, you know, work-out dumbbells? Fidel and Dwayne don’t and although Camille assures me I won’t need any extra equipment I thought I should at least have THAT much on hand for tonight.”

That got her attention! “Tonight? Are you sure? I know she has dinner plans.”

“Oh, yes. She does. With me. She’s helping with my self-improvement program of healthy eating and work-outs. I must say, her enthusiasm is greatly appreciated! She’s more excited about it than I am.”

Catherine has a swift insight, not an Indian chief, THE chief. All the air leaves her lungs and she only manages to whisper, “Do you mean work-outs as in aerobics or lifting weights or…?”

He chuckles, “Well, I don’t know exactly what she has planned but I hope it isn’t too strenuous. It will take a bit of time to build up my stamina and strength to what it was before I came here. I trust her to do her best for me. Now, about those weights?”

Catherine shakes her head, “Oh, yes, the weights. I do have some. Come with me.”

While he helps her rummage in the storeroom, she carefully quizzes him about his request to her daughter and her daughter’s responses. Within minutes she sees it all and sighs, _Oh, Camille, what a mix-up! Should I call you? Should I interfere or do I hope you can still salvage something from this fiasco! Should I say a special prayer to Erzuli at sunset?_

As she watches his back disappear down the road on his way home, she goes back into her bar to do just that. As she lights masses of red candles and burns handfuls of ‘Neverdone’, she is praying as hard as she can, hoping that extra pleading will sway the goddess to her side!

End – part 4


	21. Self-Improvement - part 5 of 6

**Part 5 of 6**

Sunset

Richard is freshly showered and standing in his bathroom, thinking. His deodorant is in his hand and he is suddenly worried about sweating in front of Camille. It shouldn’t really matter but it does. Most days he is simply wrung out just from breathing but if he’s going to be actively working out then… He shrugs and applies the deodorant all over his torso. Then he wonders about shaving. Would he sweat less if he were…? He runs a hand down his chest. _No,_ he thinks, _there’s too much… besides, it’s almost 7 o’clock_.

He quickly dons his sweats, the first time he’s taken them out of the drawer since his arrival. He is just lacing up his court shoes when a sharp knock is heard. _Strange_ , he thinks, _why would I_ _think that knock sounds eager?_ He glances at the clock, _she’s early! Tsk, so impetuous._ He bounds down the steps and throws open the kitchen door… and stares.

His look is matched by her answering stare.

She is wearing a dress… the RED dress. Her hair is coiffed up into something intricate and she is absolutely lovely with make up and lip stick. A heavenly scent emanates off her like liqueur. His hormones surge to the fore but he quashes them out of sheer reflex and he says the first thing that comes into his head, “Um, do you need to change?”

He sees the basket in her hands. Surely she hasn’t got her work-out clothes in that little bundle? Sudden visions of spandex race through his mind! _Cor!_ His cardio is off to an early start.

She looks him up and down, frowning, “ME change? Aren’t YOU going to change? You look like you’re going out for a quick jog.” She glances at her watch to check the time, _Yep, it’s 7 o’clock all right, surely he didn’t forget?_ She takes a deep breath and steps inside and tucks the basket inside the fridge.

 _Oh_ , he thinks, _not spandex, it’s the supper… but then…?_ She is facing him now, arms crossed, and he recognizes the look on her face. Someone has made a mistake here and he has a very uncomfortable feeling that it might be him. He tests the waters, “Um, Camille, you can’t work out in those clothes. It will ruin the dress and I like that dress. Do you need to borrow some of my…?”

“What are you talking about? Work-out?” Into the strained silence, she finally notices the little dumbbells on the kitchen counter. She looks at him again. He is donning those little stretchy wrist bands that you only ever see on TV or in dance movies. He picks up a matching headband and is just about to slip it on when she stops him. “What are you doing?” she mutters.

“I’m getting ready for the 20-minute cardio work-out that you so kindly offered to organize for me when we talked this morning. Why? What did you think I was doing?”

Her mouth works for a few moments before she chuffs rueful laughter, “I thought you were inviting me for a romantic dinner and…” She leans back onto the counter and covers her eyes, shakes her head.

“And?”

She lowers her hands and stares at the floor, “…and… romance.”

“Romance? It’s just a cardio work-out not… oh… oh… OH! Oh, Camille, I’m SO sorry! I didn’t realize… I didn’t mean… you mustn’t… please don’t…” He stumbles over his words as he replays the mornings’ conversation and sees exactly where they went wrong!

She hears his tone and her anger flares, “Don’t you dare blame me! How could you mislead me this way? This is very ungentlemanly behaviour! I came here expecting something wonderful and now you want me to jump-jacks with you? Are you insane! Non! Non!! It is not to be believed!” She spins on her high-heels and strides back out the door.

He is after her like a shot.

END – part 5


	22. Self-Improvement - part 6 of 6

Part 6 of 6

Catherine sits under her ‘party tree’, fairy-lights twinkling faintly and bathing the cobbles in pale golden light. Her glass of wine is most refreshing and her thoughts are bent on the aforementioned pitter-patter of tiny feet as she watches the waves roll lazily in.

She has spent the evening placating herself with assurances that Camille will manage to handle him with skill and finesse and that he simply will not be able to resist. After all, what English man can withstand a determined French woman? It is simply impossible!

Her quiet enjoyment of the evening is interrupted by arguing voices off in the distance. She tries to tune them out but they are drawing nearer and within moments she sits up sharply. _That sounds like… non, it cannot be … but it sounds like…_ Her hand darts out quickly to douse the lights and she sits in the dark with thudding heart. The voices are coming nearer and before long her fears are realized! It is Camille… and HIM! They are coming down the beach and they are arguing furiously.

Camille is marching along and he is trailing after her saying something peevish. She whirls on him and charges with raised voice and finger. He flinches back but stands his ground as she retorts something scathing.

_Camille,_ her mother thinks, _don’t let your temper get the better of you! You know how he is!_

Her point made, Camille is marching off again and now he is chasing after her. He catches her arm to turn her back to him. He is making some point or other rather fiercely and it angers Camille all the more. Now they stand toe to toe, hands gesturing, voices weaving in and out as they each defend themselves.

Catherine covers her ears and closes her eyes but she can still hear their tone. She is angry. He is defensive. He is placating. She is derisive. She is defensive. He is angry. Now he is walking away and she is chasing after him. They continue on down the beach and soon disappear... neither willing to give in or give up.

Catherine stands. “Merde,” she whispers. She crosses the street, goes into La Kaz, brings back the wine bottle, fills her glass and holds it up to the stars overhead. “So much for grandchildren,” she murmurs and drinks deep.

As she works on the bottle, she wonders what she will do when Camille comes back alone. His body will be somewhere down the beach, no doubt. Another murder and this time he won’t be here to solve it! She checks her watch. They’ve been gone a good 10 minutes! She must be murdering him, all right!

Just as she decides she will help cover up his death, she sees another couple coming back up the beach. She nods sadly to herself. Now THIS is what she needs to see! A man and a woman entwined together, talking low with lots of long sweet pauses. She wants to see her daughter with such a man even if it IS him! She takes another slug of wine, _Why, oh, why did it have to be HIM? She can have any man she wants so why did she have to set her sights on Poole? The man is impossible! Mount Everest in a suit! A mystery and an enigma and a conundrum wrapped up in wool! English to the core and…_

A quiet laugh startles her out of her silent rant. _That sounds like… like…_ She stands carefully and peers down at the beach. _The couple, the lovely loving couple! Surely it can’t be?_ She hears another laugh and this time she is sure. _It’s Camille! Did she meet someone new down the beach there after burying that infuriating man’s body above the tide-line? Fast work if she did… but no, of course not!_ She sets her goblet down and leans against the tree, feeling a bit dizzy. _If that is Camille then THAT has to be Richard!_ She watches them stroll slowly back up the beach, retracing their steps. Oh, but now, NOW they seem to be in the right frame of mind!

Visions of grandchildren roar back into her head as she falls back into her chair, picks up her goblet, and toasts the retreating couple. _Here’s to you, my dears! Camille, hurry him up and get back to his place as soon as possible! Be sweet and demure and patient and PLEASE don’t start another fight for the next hour or so!_

_PLEASE!_

_For my sake and the sake of all the little ones who are waiting!_

Epilogue

She does. She is. She doesn’t. And the count-down begins.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really should have closed this Collection after story #10 but I honestly didn't think there were more stories in the hopper... but there were. I think there always will be, considering the source. Also, my new annual Christmas tradition of DiP back-to-back-to-back is coming up and there's no telling what will occur to me in my fugue state. Apologies in advance to all the RP purists but my RP is a rascal and I wouldn't have him any other way.


End file.
